


Strange Magic

by IntoTheGallifray, sanchan06



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Magic, Romance, Ruminate, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheGallifray/pseuds/IntoTheGallifray, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanchan06/pseuds/sanchan06
Summary: On the night before Charles returns to the UK, leaving Young Tech and Sam behind, he and our stalwart heroine find themselves swept away on one last adventure, filled with mystery, peril, and perhaps some romance while facing (figurative and literal) demons to find their way home.All the thanks and love to our beta, the wonderfully witty WoxliMischief <3 Check out her fic!
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Strange Magic

Samara Young pressed her hand against her chest, able to feel her heart beating quickly as she leaned heavily against the back of her apartment door. She'd just said goodbye to Charles, finalizing the last time he would ever drive her home from work.

"He's leaving tomorrow," she spoke into the silence, sliding down to sit on the floor. 

Bowser trotted up to her, tail drooping as he took in her solemn countenance.

"Charles is leaving m-...the company tomorrow, boy," she said softly, reaching to scratch him behind the ears.

The mini Welshman whimpered and curled up in her lap, Sam stroking him absent-mindedly while her mind replayed that fateful day only a few weeks ago.

_Sam looked up when Charles stepped quietly into her office, thinking it odd that he was without a smile and seemed to be avoiding eye contact._

_"Back already?" she smirked, rising from her chair as he closed the door._

_"Not for very long," he'd meant to say it under his breath, but Sam had heard it, perturbed by the way he’d spoken it._

_Ever since their first kiss and the Night of the Irish Coffee - **'had it really been two months already?'** \- they'd become more **involved** with one another, both physically and emotionally. Sam could recall more than a few days at work where she'd been walking funny because of the angle at which Charles had pounded her the night before. More frequent were the days he couldn't keep his hands off her after she'd pulled him into one of their offices, or down to his car, or managing to drive all the way to his apartment or hers...or the elevator that one time. At the start of whatever this was, she hadn’t even known what an orgasm felt like, and now the longest she'd gone without was less than one work day. And through that intimacy, as much as Charles had fought against it, they had developed a deeper connection with one another. They’d grown the ability to read each others' body language, knowing when the other needed something: A kiss, a comforting word, support, a hot mouth with a supple tongue. But today, as Sam eyed the unusually closed off man before her, she knew something was wrong before he'd even said a word. _

_"Samara," his tone was business-like, causing Sam to cross her arms defensively, "I have something I need to discuss with you."_

_"Okay?" she prompted, her disconcert growing with each passing minute of silence._

_"That night at L'Amour," he began, adjusting his tie as he spoke, "When I stepped outside-"_

_"And I got a drunk," she joked, attempting to bring some levity to the situation, but it rang hollow._

_"Indeed," he said, not even a hint of a smile, "I had received a call from Ellesmere."_

_"Yeah, about the coding request," she responded, not entirely sure where he was going with this._

_"That was not the true reason for their contacting me," he watched her face, likely trying to gauge her reaction._

_"...So you lied to me?" she asked, her tone tinged with anger as her thoughts spun._

_"It seemed the correct course of action at the time," he replied, shying away from the intensity of her gaze._

_"After **you** reprimanded **me** about calling you a liar...You're losing ground here, Jones," she retorted, standing straighter._

_"They were offering me a high-level position with their company…in London. I hadn't mentioned it to you because at the time, I had no reason to take it," his voice was ragged, as though he were pleading for her to understand._

_Sam stiffened, instantly picking up on one specific word, "You **had** no reason?" _

_"They gave me some time to think about it and last night, that time ran out," his face maintained a neutral expression, but his eyes were telling a different story._

_"Last night..." she trailed off, recalling how the previous night they'd been wrapped up in each others' arms._

**_She'd been kneeling on the edge of his bed while he'd plunged into her from behind, his expansive hands holding her against him as they'd kissed. Right before they'd peaked together, he'd begun whispering a set of words that Sam had known the ending to, despite how he’d cut himself off halfway through._**

_"And this 'time running out'," her voice was laden with barely restrained fury, "Did it occur before or after you almost told me you love me?"_

_Charles stared at her in shock, like a deer in headlights._

_"Y-you..." he couldn't seem to find his words._

_"I'm naive, Charles, not blind. Or at least, I **was** ," she replied coldly, hands dropping to her sides as she clenched them into fists._

_He cleared his throat, running his hand through his hair, "It's for your own good."_

_"What's for my 'own good'?" she spat the latter two words out with such venom that it made Charles flinch._

_"Do you really need it spelled out for you?" he replied frostily, clearly attempting to bring his shields back up._

_"Yes, I think I do," her rage was billowing outward from her, palpable, "You need to tell me exactly what you've done, Charles. Say it. Say it out loud, to my face, or I will never respect you again."_

_"Don't be so dramatic," he sneered._

_Sam took a steadying breath, struggling to not lash out at him, as she knew to do so would give him exactly what he was looking for; to make her hate him so it was easier for him to leave. Instead, she stepped toward him until she was almost brushing against him, her gaze boring up into his as she said, "You owe me this."_

_He swallowed hard and she watched the conflicting emotions flash behind his eyes; fear, anger…love - she could still see it there even as his hands shook with the effort of preventing himself from reaching out to her._

_"I accepted their offer, I leave for London in three weeks."_

_His words echoed around her office, and even though Sam had demanded he tell her, it didn't make it hurt any less. Tears sprang to her eyes and for a second, it seemed he was going to pull her to him. But then he faltered and took a step back instead, voice cold as his subsequent words only deepened the ache in her chest.  
"I think it would be best if we return to viewing each other as colleagues in that time, and nothing more."_

_"I-if that's what you want," she said hoarsely, eyes begging him to say 'no'._

_"It is," he nodded with a finality that cut straight through her._

She'd kicked him out of her office then, letting the tears fall once he was no longer there to bear witness. The only person she'd let in for the rest of that day was Umed. A memo had been sent out about Charles leaving, and the raven-haired developer had had some colourful words to say about it to Sam. The following three weeks had seemed to fly by, with Sam and Charles barely speaking to each other at work, and not at all outside of it. He'd busied himself with training his replacement, and always seemed to _conveniently_ be too busy to be alone with her. Until today, his last day at Young Technologies, when he'd offered to drive her home...

_She accepted his offer, partly because it was quicker than the bus, but mostly because she was curious to see what he would say. While still incredibly furious with him, a small part of her hoped he would come up to her apartment one last time, for a proper goodbye. But as more and more of the ride passed in complete silence, she felt that sliver of hope dashed against the rocks, resolving to jump out of the car as soon as they'd parked. When that moment came, Sam grabbed her bag and bit out a curt, "Well, it was nice knowing you," before reaching for the door handle._

_His fingers on her wrist and the desperation in his tone froze her in place, "Wait."_

_She turned in her seat to look at him, his expression warring between anguish and frustration._

_"Please," his voice broke, "Just...one moment."_

_"It's been three weeks of nothing from you and **now** you want a moment?" her eyebrow arched icily._

_"I..." he seemed on the verge of saying something incredibly important to her, no doubt something that would likely change their entire course. But he couldn't seem to find the words, and Sam soon realized he wasn't able to finish his sentence._

_"Come upstairs," she whispered, trying to sound more assertive than begging, "Tell me there."_

_His eyes met hers and she knew it wasn't going to happen even before he affirmed it. His hand slid behind the back of her head, fingers twining in her hair as he pulled her closer to him. She instinctively shut her eyes, tilting her lips toward his, aching to feel them on hers. But then he stopped within an inch of her, Sam able to feel his breath ghosting across her lips as he said, "I can't."_

_She felt a kiss pressed lightly to her forehead, her eyes fluttering open as he withdrew from her, no longer able to meet her gaze._

_"Goodbye, Charles," Sam murmured, afraid to speak louder in case it came out as a plea for him to stay._

_She got out and quietly closed the door before walking toward her apartment building. She didn't turn around once, not even when she heard him driving away before she reached the doors, holding herself together until she was within the safety of her walls._

Sam was brought out of her reverie by a soft pink tongue on the underside of her chin, looking down to see Bowser's concerned face, his paws against her chest.

"I'm so pathetic," she told him with a watery smile, earning a displeased huff in response.

She took a few deep breaths then stood, looking around at how her apartment seemed so much emptier for some reason. She decided now would probably be a good time to take Bowser out, the pair walking around the block before she once again sequestered herself in her apartment. She didn't really feel like doing much else other than sitting and staring off into space, until Bowser started nudging her ankle. 

"What is it, boy?" she asked him, "Dinner's not for another hour."

He whined and then ran over to her computer desk, headbutting the leg of it.

"You're crazy," she chuckled, standing up to see what he wanted.

Then she noticed that not only was her computer on, but Ruminate had somehow launched itself into a game, a selection of words flashing before her.

"What the..." she murmured, moving to sit in her desk chair.

She unplugged her headphones and the game soundtrack started playing a melody she didn't remember programming into it; she felt beckoned by the haunting notes. She read the glowing font at the top of the screen, **_'If it were up to you, would you choose love?’_**

She knew she should have been more panicked, considering she had never actually coded this into her own game. She briefly wondered if it had been hacked or altered somehow, or if it was a virus, or maybe she was dreaming...or hallucinating…or insane, that seemed pretty plausible. Nevertheless, she felt drawn to the two options just below the proposed query, a simple yes or no. She palmed her mouse, cursor hovering over the box that read 'No'. However, despite the newfound cynicism she'd developed following Charles' decision to leave, she still couldn't bring herself to actually click it. She let out a heavy, disappointed sigh, berating herself as she slid over to select the 'yes' box.

" _So_ pathetic," she murmured, clicking it.

The room was suddenly filled with a loud roar as a cacophonous wind ripped through her apartment. It forced her to close her eyes and cover her ears, her scream ripped from her lips by the unnatural tempest. Then, just as abruptly, a mixture of deafening silence and darkness descended, and Sam wondered if she had blacked out somehow, attempting to cast her senses outward. It didn’t last long; it felt like she blinked and was all at once met with the scenery of what she recognized as Ruminate, albeit much bigger and more 3D-looking. 

The grass seemed just as green and fluid as it would in reality, the faraway mountains as vast, the distant castle as solid as any she’d ever seen on her family travels. The part of her brain telling her she should be scared and wary and cautious was drowned out by the beauty of what surrounded her. While still deeply in denial, there was even a swell of pride as she knew on some level that she had created this. This astonishingly breath-taking world had come out of her mind, brought to life by both her and Jasmine. The air smelled fresh and crisp, the sound of the wind through the trees melding with that of the forest dwellers, instilling a sense of calm within her…that is, until she saw Charles standing in front of her, or rather, what she perceived as the Ruminate version of him. 

She rubbed her eyes, only to be met with exactly the same sight as before, and she realized she _had_ to be dreaming. It was the only explanation. That or her apartment had filled with carbon monoxide or something and she was hallucinating. Or she'd gone mad, which was a very likely contender. The enormity of her situation caught up with her and she felt her heart begin to race. She closed her eyes tightly and willed her mind to slow down, to not panic, and most of all, to not trigger an asthma attack, very slowly breathing in and out. 

When she felt she was calm enough, she opened her eyes and again looked at the Ruminate Charles only a few feet away. He was gawking at her, a blush rising on his cheeks as he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. She took no notice of his demeanour - nor of what exactly was making him blush - only seeing him as _her_ Charles Jones in that moment. And, despite where she was and the very strange circumstances she'd suddenly found herself in, Sam got up from the ground, anger filling her as she stomped toward 'Charles'. She got within arms' length of him and, paying no heed to his flustered expression, knowing that this was very clearly a dream or some kind of hallucination and would have no real-world repercussions, she pulled her arm back and punched him squarely in the face.

\----

Charles Jones was incensed. With Ellesmere for their timing, with Sam for just being her sweet, endearing self, but mostly at himself, for being the idiot who had fallen in love with her. He knew his remaining time in America was hanging by a thread, and yet he'd still gone and gotten himself entangled in a complicated mess. For even as simple as Sam had said it could be, there was nothing easy at all about the way his heart was thumping painfully in his chest. 

When he’d torn into his apartment after dropping Sam off, his first instinct was to shout at the empty space around him. It had felt pitiful in the amount of relief it brought him, so he'd grabbed a fragile decorative piece from a nearby shelf and threw it against the wall, watching it shatter with a grim sort of satisfaction. Rage slightly dulled, he went to the bar and picked up one of his crystal tumblers, the weight of it in his palm somewhat comforting, enough that he wouldn't smash it as well. He sighed heavily and opened his decanter of brandy, pouring himself several fingers before sinking into a chair at his kitchen table, his head in his hands. It felt like only days ago he'd been truly happy, the images behind his eyelids flitting back to several weeks before, to the event that had sparked all of this…

_They both barely made it into his apartment before his hands were on her, lips meeting in a kiss that spoke of their desire._

_"I need you, Charles," Sam rasped against his neck, causing him to pull her closer._

_She didn't know it, but those words set something off within him, like a ball of snow rolling down a mountainside, slowly growing bigger and rolling faster, until it inevitably crashed into the bottom, destroying everything in its path. It was a mentality he'd kept vigilant in the back of his mind every single time he and Sam were together. Terrified that he was going to bring her to ruin, and how could he not; a broken shadow of man who’d shunned love for so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like. Then her hand stroked against the bulge in his trousers and he was brought back to the present, nipping her bottom lip and stilling her fingers._

_"Perhaps we should continue this in the bedroom," he suggested, bringing her hand to his lips._

_"But it's so many stairs," she pouted, drawing a chuckle from him._

_"You know what they say about anticipation," his low baritone washed over her as he spun her toward the staircase, bending so that his lips rested just beside her ear, "It only heightens the pleasure."_

_Sam shivered and hurriedly led the way, seeming to take the stairs two at a time. Charles was right behind her, unable to tear his eyes away from the immaculate view before him. The second she made it to the bed, she was pulling off her blouse and bra, tossing both to the ground before reaching out to him. He watched her, eyes alit as she removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, using a slow pace she was well aware drove him wild. By the time she began undoing his belt, he was straining achingly against the fabric of his pants, fingers anchoring themselves in her hair while she dragged the material down his legs. He stepped out of them and kicked them away, having only a few seconds to shirk off his socks before Sam's tongue was gliding along the underside of his shaft. He let out a moan, head tilting back when she repeated the motion, flattening her tongue out more. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him to her, leaning forward and taking his fully erect member between her lips, sliding her head downward to take him in as completely as she could. He groaned when she swallowed around him, the wet warmth both comforting and maddening. His hands once again found her locks, holding her hair away from her face as she sucked back up along his cock, her fingers coming up to encircle the base of his shaft. She again drew him in, a little faster this time, her tongue playing across his length while her hand twisted lightly. She soon found a rhythm that was a heady combination of torturous and exquisite. The choreography of her movements, in addition to the day's worth of sexual tension between them, already had him embarrassingly close. He tightened his grip on her hair, indicating for her to stop before bending to kiss her fiercely._

_"Move up onto the bed, on your knees," he commanded, voice simultaneously soft and firm._

_Her only response was a hard swallow and the widening of her pupils, doing just as he'd asked, kneeling with her back toward him. He stepped up behind her, one hand reaching around to cup her breast while the other lay spanned across her lower abdomen, holding her to him, his cock trapped between them. His thumb and forefinger plucked at her nipple, teasing the peak even tauter, drawing a gasp from her._

_"You are divine," he murmured into her ear, the fingers of his other hand sliding along her skin until they just grazed her clit, reveling in her jolted reaction._

_"Please," she whimpered, trying to rotate her hips._

_"Patience, Love," he chided, drawing painstakingly slow circles over the sensitive nub, feeling her tremble._

_He pressed kisses into her neck as he continued, the goosebumps adorning her flesh brushing against his lips. He timed a nip on her shoulder with sliding two fingers inside of her, his palm continuing to rub against her clit._

_"Fuck," she hissed as he curled them inside of her._

_"You're so wet," his velvety tone drifted over her, only furthering that very fact._

_"Hah," she breathed, momentarily distracted when he added a third finger._

_"Why **is** that, Samara?" he asked, feeling her hands grasp his arms, her fingernails digging into them._

_"I-it's be-because-Ohhhh," she moaned when he picked up his speed._

_He felt her growing close so he eased back a bit, depriving her of the release she so craved, enjoying her frustrated growl._

_"Who are you so wet for, Bunty?" he breathed, once again increasing his pace._

_"You," she blurted out amidst a sob, "Always you."_

_He smirked and brought her the climax she was seeking, the sensation of her muscles squeezing around his fingers and the whispered, "Only you," making him abandon his plan of slow torture._

_She fell forward to her hands and knees on the mattress, panting as she recovered. He positioned himself so that his shaft was pressed against her engorged flesh, slowly drawing his hips back to rub it tantalizingly against her folds. She moved her hips in response, seemingly trying to guide him to a certain spot._

_"Use your words, Samara," he still managed to tease._

_She turned her head, gaze meeting his as she replied huskily, "I want you inside of me, now."_

_"I cannot refuse such a request," he stated, deftly lining himself up and plunging into her until he was fully sheathed._

_She let out a cry, head hung forward as he stayed where he was, feeling her walls ripple around him. Before he could move, she leaned forward, then pushed back against him, pleasing herself. He moaned, looking down to see his length disappearing inside of her over and over as she took her pleasure, hips bottoming out with each thrust. He knew it wouldn't be much longer for both of them, so he pulled her up to kneeling in front of him, his feet planted firmly on the floor. He held her to him, one arm wrapped around her waist while the fingers of his other drew patterns over her clit. Sam arched her back, her head resting against his shoulder as he pounded up into her. He was able to see the expression on her face, how intensely beautiful she was in that moment, the way she chanted his name a sound that both damned him and set him free. As they approached the edge, he couldn't stop his traitorous mouth from saying, "I lo-" but he cut himself off just in time for them to launch across that boundary between tension and ecstasy, vaguely hoping his declaration died in the aftermath. He continued holding her to him, slowly registering that she was pressing light kisses to his sweat-soaked skin as he came back to himself. He turned his head, kissing her softly before pulling away, smiling in amusement when she flopped to the bed._

_"Are you quite alright?" he asked smugly, moving to tuck her hair out of her face._

_"You know very well I won't be walking properly tomorrow," she groused lightheartedly, peeking up at him._

_"Well why don't you rest a moment while I go and collect our things," he spoke softly, fingers trailing along her side as he stepped back._

_It wasn’t until he was on the second floor that icy panic gripped him, **'I almost told her...I can't...I've let this go on too long already. All I have to give to her is devastation.'** These dark thoughts swirled around him as he descended to the main level, grabbing Sam's bag and his jacket. He was momentarily confused by the sound of his phone ringing, but soon identified it and pulled it from his jacket pocket. He froze on seeing the caller ID, having known this day would come, though not expecting it at that very moment. He looked up toward the third floor, where Sam was waiting for him, then closed his eyes and exhaled before answering the call._

He sipped his brandy as he recalled her expression when he'd told her he was leaving, _‘I didn’t think I had anything left to break, but she managed to do it, all with poise_.’ Charles shot to his feet, chair scraping backward as he began to pace, cursing himself for losing his composure completely when she’d thrown his half-spoken confession back in his face.

“How is it that she’s come to read me like a book?” he asked the silence around him, both warmed and terrified by the notion.

He paused mid step, hand subconsciously reaching out as he remembered how badly he’d wanted to do it when her eyes had begged him to say that it wasn’t what he truly wanted, that none of this was. He slumped gracelessly back into his chair when the same thought that had kept him steadfast in that moment, popped into his mind once again, _‘How would she look heartbroken? Full of regret? Wishing she’d never met you? You **will** find out if you continue along this path.’_

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he ran back over the hellish three weeks that had followed, hating every excuse he'd made to not be alone with her. It had to be done, because he knew if he had her to himself for even a second, he'd hang on and never let go. However, despite all of his efforts, he'd finally crumbled earlier today. He stared despondently at the table top, replaying the ride to her apartment in his mind as he pressed his forehead to the heel of his hand.

_She was getting out of the car, a few steps and he'd never see her again. That thought caused his heart to clench and he hadn't realized he'd gripped her wrist until he spoke, "Wait."_

_She turned to him, gaze both hopeful and apprehensive._

_"Please," he pleaded, berating himself internally for how pathetic he sounded, "Just...one moment."_

_He knew he rightfully deserved the scorn in her scathing retort, warring with himself on whether to push forward or pull back._

_"I..." he trailed off, having once again begun a set of three words he knew he had no right to say to her, especially now…he didn't deserve it, or her._

_He was incredibly surprised when she said, "Come upstairs, tell me there."_

_He leveled his gaze with hers and for a second, seriously considered acquiescing; how easy it would be, to go upstairs and be held, be loved. But he knew that it was the worst thing he could possibly do to her, so instead he threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her close. He saw her eyes drift shut, still so trusting of him even now, and paused with his lips inches from hers. He wanted to kiss her, to have at least that to go on during what would be some very lonely months in London. But that would be selfish, to take from her what she was so willing to give when she couldn't see how it would harm her. This was the only way to free her of him, freedom from a life wasted with someone who was incapable of expressing themselves._

_"I can't," was all he could manage to say, softly kissing her brow before pulling away, unable to bring his eyes to meet hers again._

_"Goodbye, Charles," she murmured, and it was the worst thing he thought he'd ever heard._

_She didn't look back as she walked away, and he didn't wait long before driving off, trying to prevent himself from going after her. As he sped home, his fingers gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white, he felt his eyes growing damp. He bit his lip hard, succeeding in keeping the tears at bay, **'You don't deserve any kind of relief'**._

His fist rebounded off the table as the memory bore with it refreshed anguish, his glass bouncing slightly. He stared at the amber liquid swirling within it, he'd hardly had more than a few sips, though felt he wasn’t even worthy of the numbness that came with being drunk. Before his morose thoughts could spiral further, an odd tinkling sound caught his attention. He stood from the table and wandered toward it, realizing it was music when he moved closer to his living room. His brow furrowed as he made for his chair, confused at seeing that his laptop was on, and Ruminate was running by itself.

"But, how?" he questioned aloud, eyes drawn to an inquiry flashing on the screen, **'If it were up to you, would you choose her?'**

He looked around warily, wondering if someone had somehow snuck into his apartment, then banished the thought upon realizing how ridiculous it would be for someone to do such a thing with only the end goal of launching Ruminate. Charles turned back to the screen and read over the text again. He thought this was a very odd question for Sam to program into her game, let alone show up in place of the menu. He pondered over the words, instinctively thinking of Sam, but found his usual cynical thoughts strangely hushed, his head filled with the enticing melody instead. He watched his own hand reach for the mouse, moving his cursor across the screen where it hovered over 'No'. 

"If things were different," he breathed, then shifted the cursor without hesitation to click 'Yes'.

He was instantly deafened by sound, hands clamping over his ears and eyes shutting tightly against the sudden wind, _'Inside my apartment?'_ his mind cried incredulously. Then a disorienting shift found him in a state of suspension, unsure of which direction was up or down, until he felt something solid materialize beneath his feet, the scent of grass pervading his senses. He opened his eyes to see himself standing outdoors, the landscape somewhat familiar.

" _Iesu mawr_ ," he exhaled as he took it in, mind whirring as to what exactly was going on, _'I must have drank more than I thought, this has to be a dream, I've passed out drunk on the table.'_

"This can _not_ be real," he spoke aloud again to no one in particular, suddenly recognizing the castle in the distance, "Wait, that's..." and then he was halted in his tracks as he saw Samara laying on the ground, or rather, who he figured was Ruminate Samara. And she was naked.

"Oh no," he intoned.

She started waking up before he could make any move to cover her and he stood rooted to the spot. She was observing her surroundings, looking dazed and confused, almost identical to the princess he’d seen in-game when he'd first played. Her eyes settled on him and he realized he was gawking, blushing as he averted his gaze. In hindsight, he figured he probably shouldn't have, as the next thing he saw was her fist just before it collided with his face.

" _Cachu!_ " he exclaimed, eyes watering as his hands flew to his now smarting nose, _'Wait, if this truly **is** a game, then why can I feel pain?' _He tucked the thought aside as Ruminate Sam started talking.

"I'm sorry!" she almost shouted, not sounding particularly sorry at all, "You just...you remind me of someone who I'm very upset with right now."

"I'd hate to be in _his_ shoes," retorted Charles, still attempting to focus on anything but her.

"I don't even remember how I got here," she huffed, looking toward the castle again, mind trying to puzzle out solutions.

"Nor do I," he replied, finding a patch of dirt on the ground to put his attention to.

Sam observed his actions, both curious and frustrated that he seemed to be purposely focusing on anything but her.

"Why won't you look at me?" she asked, the sudden change in question throwing him slightly.

"Well, you're, ah..." he widely gestured to her body and she looked down, finally noticing that she was completely nude.

"Oh my god," Sam yelped, feeling incredibly embarrassed, the flush blossoming across her entire body attesting to that, "Where did my clothes go?!"

"It would seem," Charles began, reaching up to undo his cloak, having noticed he was costumed just as his avatar had been, "We are at the point in the game just after I resurrected you."

"Resurrected..." she trailed off, taking his cloak and wrapping it around herself.

"With the dragon fire and phoenix feather," he nodded, finally making eye contact with her.

"But I..." she lost her words again as her thoughts whirred, _'He must be part of the game, he thinks he brought me back to life with the feather.'_

"And next I bring you back to the castle, where I..." this time it was his turn to trail off.

"I'd rather not go there right now," she shuddered, able to perfectly recall her 'Haunted' secret ending.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" he inquired, arms crossed in front of him.

"I'm glad you asked!" came a cheerful voice from behind them, Sam finding it eerily familiar.

A woman dressed as a sorceress, with long flowing black hair and a laidback demeanour stepped as if out of nowhere, wearing a friendly grin which mirrored that of one of Sam’s real-world friends.

"Wh-who are you?" Sam stammered, though she was sure she knew the answer.

"I am Vikki, the Good Witch," she smiled benevolently, nodding to both of them in greeting.

"Sam" replied the brunette, her brain having currently imploded.

"Charles," nodded the blond, starting slightly on hearing the Princess refer to herself using a nickname rather than her full title, thinking it somewhat odd.

Before these musings could gain any traction, however, he dismissed them, assuming it all to be an after-effect of combining brandy with regret…and promptly crash-landing in the middle of this highly realistic hallucination. Clearly nothing could be trusted in this place.

"I know," Vikki clasped her hands together.

Before either of them could question her further on that, Vikki pulled a wand from her sleeve, waving it in Sam's direction, "Allow me to fix that for you."

Sam jumped violently as clothes suddenly appeared on her; a set of dark brown suede pants tucked into tawny leather boots, topped with a comfortable white linen peasant shirt and black leather vest, a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Much better," Vikki nodded before waving her wand at Charles.

The pain between his eyes as well as the beginnings of swelling and bruising suddenly disappeared. He gave his nose an experimental tweak before looking to Vikki, "Thank you."

"And now for your quest," she said gleefully, flicking her wand a third time to project the image of an angry, daunting-looking woman dressed menacingly, into the air.

"That's-" Charles started to say, recognizing the projection's face.

"The Wicked Witch of the Welsh," finished Vikki, "Gweneth."

Sam choked slightly, knowing for certain that none of this had been programmed into the game by her, _'I'm definitely hallucinating...'_

Charles almost bit his tongue, not entirely liking the way this was going, _'I am most certainly knocked out in the kitchen, there's no way_.'

"In order to return to your normal lives, you must save the Kingdom of Samwell from Gwen. But beware, it will not be an easy task as she is anticipating an attack, and will employ many tricks in order to lead you astray."

"Great," grumbled Sam.

"Wonderful," sighed Charles at the same time. 

"Now!" Vikki clapped her hands, the Welshman finding the sound grating.

"There's more?" asked Charles, eyebrow arched.

"To aid you on your quest," Vikki made a beckoning gesture aimed at the woods, and Sam and Charles' eyes widened on seeing the little dragon-Bowser Charles had defeated walking out with an owl riding on his back, "These wonderful beings have volunteered-"

"If this were voluntary, I'd be home with my beloved Queen right now," dragon-Bowser interrupted sourly.

Charles narrowed his eyes at him, finding the likeness of his newfound voice disconcertingly similar to a certain CEO in the real world.

"These _wonderful_ beings," Vikki started again, "Will join you on your journey."

She held out her arm and the owl, a muted shade of brown capped with some black feathers, flew onto it, eyeing Sam and Charles, "This is Who-med."

"I'm sorry," Charles held up both palms, "Who?"

"Med," replied the owl in yet another eerily familiar voice.

"Who?" Charles asked weakly, beginning to wonder if he was ever going to wake up from this brandy-induced nightmare.

"Med," said Sam, as if it were obvious.

"Aren't _I_ the one that's supposed to say 'who'?" joked Who-med, taking flight and circling before coming to land on Sam's shoulder.

"Great, we're following a moron, this should go well," dragon-Bowser stated sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"This is his majesty, King Consort Samuel," Vikki introduced with a grand wave of her arm.

"I don't remember you being able to talk before," Charles replied frostily.

"A lot's happened here while you were _out_ ," Samuel replied gruffly.

"He’s actually currently under a curse," explained Vikki, leaning down to scratch behind Samuel's ears, chuckling when his back leg started thumping, "This little dragon and the Queen's husband were cursed and switched bodies."

"So you mean, somewhere there's a version of my da-...human Samuel acting like a dog?" Sam started giggling, picturing it.

"Yes," growled Samuel, "And I would like to get back to _my_ body, but instead I'm being dragged along on this waste of time."

Charles glanced at the princess through his peripheral vision, mind playing over what she'd almost said, thinking how she was a lot like _his_ Sam, _'Of course she is, Twpsyn, the princess is **designed** by Samara.'_

"And finally," Vikki interrupted his thoughts, regaining his attention, "A few words of caution. Please beware that should you become injured in this world, you will most certainly feel it, and I will not always be around to heal you," she directed that at Charles, who blushed.

"Wh-what..." Sam started, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold, "What if we die?"

"Try not to," replied Who-med, pretending to ignore Sam's glare as he preened his feathers.

"Providing you still have extra lives, you will be resurrected," added Vikki, waving her wand so that an image of three hearts hung in the air before both of them, "As of now, you each have two extra lives."

"And if we have none?" asked Charles quietly.

"Dire consequences," Vikki's voice lowered darkly, backlit by the sight of Samuel dragging a paw across his neck threateningly.

Charles cleared his throat and Sam swallowed hard, both thrown by Vikki's immediate change back to a cheerful mien, "Well that's all from me, any questions?"

Charles and Sam both just stared dumbly at her, Sam's mind whirring with a thousand questions, Charles still trying to wake himself up.

"Cool, I'll see you guys later then!" she called out, then disappeared with another flick of her wrist.

Charles reached over and pinched his arm, disheartened when nothing around him changed.

"I don't think you're dreaming," Sam's voice drifted over.

"Unfortunately, I feel I have to agree," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, shaking several locks loose from its tie.

"So...what do we do now?" Sam asked, looking around her for some kind of clue or indicator or helpful character to point them in the right direction, as that was the style of her game. At least it _was_ , before it had taken on a mind of its own.

"Oh yeah!" Vikki's loud excited voice came from behind them, causing everyone to jump, "I almost forgot."

"Dunderhead," grumbled Samuel, who had been licking himself.

"A riddle to start you off," she waggled her fingers at them, "Three objects of protection lost, to find them comes at much great cost, the first one lies...umm...sits..."

Sam couldn't help but snort as Samuel facepawed in front of them.

"Hmm, I'm having trouble remembering," Vikki tapped her chin, then shrugged and pointed toward the trees, off to the left of the castle, "Just walk that way, you'll know it when you see it."

And with that she was gone again. Charles pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten, Sam watching him amusedly.

"So are we going to get moving, or...?" she teased.

"Of course," nodded Charles, gesturing in the direction in which Vikki had pointed, "Ladies first."

"How gallant," she laughed sarcastically, walking ahead with Who-med still perched on her shoulder.

Charles continued holding his arm out, looking pointedly down at Samuel and smirking as he said, "Age before beauty."

"You better watch it, blondie, this body breathes fire," Samuel quipped before trotting toward Sam.

"Ah yes," he cleared his throat, "I remember."

And so, the intrepid travellers set off on their quest, unaware as to what challenges and trials lay ahead of them, all completely oblivious to the pair of eyes currently watching them set out on their way.


End file.
